CaptCrash
Dazed and Confused
Motorcycles, Life and Art & Science...by Capt Crash
Ever notice how failed artists end up as critics? You know, they understand the science of something but simply can't apply the art? Ever had an 'artless' doctor? You know, the one with "no bedside manner". He's the guy who can tell you what's wrong and what has to be done but does it so ineptly that you want to run away? Rather than "we'll need to get inside to really fix it" they say "we'll start with a McBurney incision diagonally down the abdominal wall, using electrocautery to control bleeding..." at which point you run screaming from the room.
I've known a few artless teachers--people that just love their area of expertise but just can't relate to students. There's a saying that "elementary teachers teach because they love kids, secondary teachers teach because they love their subject". Ever have a math or chem teacher who loved their subject but didn't particularly like kids? Me too. Arrggggggggggggh.
Think of the clumsy carpenter, the guy who can use all the tools, knows which tool does what and why and HOW..and then can't frame a square wall for love or money. You see it in recreational painters, who know how to put the paint on the canvas but can't make it speak. Adhering to all the rules and conventions they think they're making art but all they are doing is soullessly following a map. Correct brush, good canvas, right paints, rules of compositions, colors complimentary, proper lighting, holding the brush right, good palette control, shading as instructed...crap painting. No soul. No center. No life. No art.
Don't get me wrong! I'm not talking about a lack of interest or desire! Something else is missing, something wonderful and wild and intangible just isn't there. They can still love something but they're lacking ability to apply it with passion and faith and abandon. Part of the pain of watching someone who dearly loves something but has no craft--no art--is that they often apply the science and then become confused that the art isn't there. They DID EVERYTHING RIGHT, but it's not art. Sometimes they don't know it! They think the art is in possessing the science. They figure if they master the science that art will naturally follow. It's a calculation they hope to use. Art, however, is fluid and if there was a simple formula to apply we'd all be Dutch Masters.
But the art of it is taking the science and getting something out of it that isn't in the calculations. Breathing life into the science makes a great teacher. Making the colors come alive is more than just using complimentary ones. A great table has more than good joints and matching grain; the wood flows and the joints melt and the table becomes more than just planks glued together, it becomes a new thing: ART.
Ever watch those football stars on the dancing show? They were artists on the football field. Some can dance as well! Others go through the motions and it's all there but it's not right. The right foot is in the right place but things just...aren't...art.
Motorcycles are an excellent example of this problem. I really, truly believe that the great riders you see are blessed with a childlike faith in the art of motorcycling--they may be aware of the science but it's the art they trust. They ride well not because of calculation but because of aptitude. Aptitude just means they possess a gift of listening to the bike, a sense of feedback that allows them to hear what the bike tells them and get the most out of the thing. They aren't burdened by the calculation of riding, they embrace the craft of riding.
Example: Counter steering. You can spend your entire life learning about deflection and camber thrust and rolling resistance and the coefficient of friction but knowing all those things doesn't mean you can apply them, just like knowing scales or how a piano physically works doesn't make you a concert pianist. It's when science meets aptitude that beautiful things start to happen. Be aware, aptitude alone isn't enough, just as science isn't.
I can muddle around on the guitar. I can play weird things like Christmas Carols and Hymns, Greensleeves and Godzilla...frankly, it's enough to be interesting at parties and I can calm myself when I'm tense. I'm extraordinarily average with a classical guitar. I know how it works. I practice once in a while but there's no way that I'm gonna be the next Segovia that ain't happenin' EVER. I could practice my brains out 24/7 and still only become more technically astute. I don't play with a lot of soul. I just can't make a guitar 'gently weep'.
Some are blessed with "it" or the "x-factor" some people just can do it; they just are naturally gifted at something. Others can't do it and never will; and still the largest body of all simply can only "get it done". The danger is when we think that technical understanding can replace that 'x-factor'; that if we just do it enough we'll be more than proficient--we'll be masters, that somehow from rough knowledge we'll pull finished art.
I believe that sometimes we meet Masters who delve deeply into science. Guys like Keith Code and David Hough who, as they master the art, master the science. I also believe that this may be a one way street--you can master the art and then master the science BUT trying to master the science and then the art, well, I'm not sure that works. I've seen people become so hung up on "is my arm in the right position?" or "as a percentage--how much weight should I put on the front while doing u-turns?" and "in hours, how much practice should I do before I get on the freeway?"
My answers are simple: were you comfortable and could control the bike? Then your arm is in the right position. Did you make the u-turn? Then you had it right. And how many hours 'til you get on the freeway? You'll know when you're ready. Listen to the little voice.
There is no PERFECT way to ride a motorcycle, it's not like mixing fertilizer--it's more like cooking! Part science/part art. The moment you become locked into your recipe and can't adjust it to taste is the moment you go from artist to chemist...Likewise the moment you take that living, quivering, slobbering calculation that is a motorcycle and demand it act the same exact way every single time in every single situation is the moment you've killed the art of riding. Why? Because the variables of riding are what trumps the science. Every situation isn't the same and the great ones, the artists? They adjust at a core, visceral level...they ride with their gut.
Artless riding isn't worth doing. The moment a timid or unsteady rider wants to discuss the physics of riding, get ready to run 'cause that rider doesn't want to ride a bike, they want to control it and break it and make it do their will. Me? I'd rather ride. My advice: Learn the physics of riding but good heavens, don't smother your spirit with science; and if the idea that a mechanical animal has a soul, unique properties and a mind of its own offends you? Then we're probably not gonna get along...
Ever notice how failed artists end up as critics? You know, they understand the science of something but simply can't apply the art? Ever had an 'artless' doctor? You know, the one with "no bedside manner". He's the guy who can tell you what's wrong and what has to be done but does it so ineptly that you want to run away? Rather than "we'll need to get inside to really fix it" they say "we'll start with a McBurney incision diagonally down the abdominal wall, using electrocautery to control bleeding..." at which point you run screaming from the room.
I've known a few artless teachers--people that just love their area of expertise but just can't relate to students. There's a saying that "elementary teachers teach because they love kids, secondary teachers teach because they love their subject". Ever have a math or chem teacher who loved their subject but didn't particularly like kids? Me too. Arrggggggggggggh.
Think of the clumsy carpenter, the guy who can use all the tools, knows which tool does what and why and HOW..and then can't frame a square wall for love or money. You see it in recreational painters, who know how to put the paint on the canvas but can't make it speak. Adhering to all the rules and conventions they think they're making art but all they are doing is soullessly following a map. Correct brush, good canvas, right paints, rules of compositions, colors complimentary, proper lighting, holding the brush right, good palette control, shading as instructed...crap painting. No soul. No center. No life. No art.
Don't get me wrong! I'm not talking about a lack of interest or desire! Something else is missing, something wonderful and wild and intangible just isn't there. They can still love something but they're lacking ability to apply it with passion and faith and abandon. Part of the pain of watching someone who dearly loves something but has no craft--no art--is that they often apply the science and then become confused that the art isn't there. They DID EVERYTHING RIGHT, but it's not art. Sometimes they don't know it! They think the art is in possessing the science. They figure if they master the science that art will naturally follow. It's a calculation they hope to use. Art, however, is fluid and if there was a simple formula to apply we'd all be Dutch Masters.
But the art of it is taking the science and getting something out of it that isn't in the calculations. Breathing life into the science makes a great teacher. Making the colors come alive is more than just using complimentary ones. A great table has more than good joints and matching grain; the wood flows and the joints melt and the table becomes more than just planks glued together, it becomes a new thing: ART.
Ever watch those football stars on the dancing show? They were artists on the football field. Some can dance as well! Others go through the motions and it's all there but it's not right. The right foot is in the right place but things just...aren't...art.
Motorcycles are an excellent example of this problem. I really, truly believe that the great riders you see are blessed with a childlike faith in the art of motorcycling--they may be aware of the science but it's the art they trust. They ride well not because of calculation but because of aptitude. Aptitude just means they possess a gift of listening to the bike, a sense of feedback that allows them to hear what the bike tells them and get the most out of the thing. They aren't burdened by the calculation of riding, they embrace the craft of riding.
Example: Counter steering. You can spend your entire life learning about deflection and camber thrust and rolling resistance and the coefficient of friction but knowing all those things doesn't mean you can apply them, just like knowing scales or how a piano physically works doesn't make you a concert pianist. It's when science meets aptitude that beautiful things start to happen. Be aware, aptitude alone isn't enough, just as science isn't.
I can muddle around on the guitar. I can play weird things like Christmas Carols and Hymns, Greensleeves and Godzilla...frankly, it's enough to be interesting at parties and I can calm myself when I'm tense. I'm extraordinarily average with a classical guitar. I know how it works. I practice once in a while but there's no way that I'm gonna be the next Segovia that ain't happenin' EVER. I could practice my brains out 24/7 and still only become more technically astute. I don't play with a lot of soul. I just can't make a guitar 'gently weep'.
Some are blessed with "it" or the "x-factor" some people just can do it; they just are naturally gifted at something. Others can't do it and never will; and still the largest body of all simply can only "get it done". The danger is when we think that technical understanding can replace that 'x-factor'; that if we just do it enough we'll be more than proficient--we'll be masters, that somehow from rough knowledge we'll pull finished art.
I believe that sometimes we meet Masters who delve deeply into science. Guys like Keith Code and David Hough who, as they master the art, master the science. I also believe that this may be a one way street--you can master the art and then master the science BUT trying to master the science and then the art, well, I'm not sure that works. I've seen people become so hung up on "is my arm in the right position?" or "as a percentage--how much weight should I put on the front while doing u-turns?" and "in hours, how much practice should I do before I get on the freeway?"
My answers are simple: were you comfortable and could control the bike? Then your arm is in the right position. Did you make the u-turn? Then you had it right. And how many hours 'til you get on the freeway? You'll know when you're ready. Listen to the little voice.
There is no PERFECT way to ride a motorcycle, it's not like mixing fertilizer--it's more like cooking! Part science/part art. The moment you become locked into your recipe and can't adjust it to taste is the moment you go from artist to chemist...Likewise the moment you take that living, quivering, slobbering calculation that is a motorcycle and demand it act the same exact way every single time in every single situation is the moment you've killed the art of riding. Why? Because the variables of riding are what trumps the science. Every situation isn't the same and the great ones, the artists? They adjust at a core, visceral level...they ride with their gut.
Artless riding isn't worth doing. The moment a timid or unsteady rider wants to discuss the physics of riding, get ready to run 'cause that rider doesn't want to ride a bike, they want to control it and break it and make it do their will. Me? I'd rather ride. My advice: Learn the physics of riding but good heavens, don't smother your spirit with science; and if the idea that a mechanical animal has a soul, unique properties and a mind of its own offends you? Then we're probably not gonna get along...
Last edited:
Nobody's perfect!
killing me, dude. 
to the OP.